


Day Dreams

by superdogtime



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 01:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3877420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superdogtime/pseuds/superdogtime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bull has nightmares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Dreams

Falling asleep is hard.  
  
The bed is too big, or too small. There are not enough blankets and it's freezing somehow--Bull could kill the bastard god who rotted that hole in the roof some nights--or there are too many blankets AND too many sheets, and his body burns ever so vaguely and ever so annoyingly. The bed is too soft--he's used to something firmer, or too hard--how is he supposed to sleep on this thing? He itches, inside his body, outside his body, but nowhere he can scratch.  
  
He wants to get up and do something. Train. Seal a rift. Something. But he's more tired than he can say.  
  
Too many nights with his eyes squeezed shut. Restless rest, thoughts squirming through cracks in the quiet he's enforced in his brain, real sleep evading him with every toss and turn and adjustment of the pillows, every deep breath in and out and in.  
  
But, despite every memory in his head screaming to the contrary, sleep is important. Necessary. So eventually he lets it come. Even the nights he doesn't want it to.  
  
Staying asleep is harder.

-  
  
When he was Imekari, Ashkaari, the child, the one who thinks (though maybe he never really grew out of that last one), he would have nightmares about demons after watching the /real/ Ashkaari in the square. The storytellers telling morality tales about the saarebas, dangerous things, and Tevinter blood mages. Their intent is to scare and to entertain, but for little Ashkaari they did mostly the former. The other children lay soundly in bed as Ashkaari sniffled. Rain raps at the window, fast as his beating heart. He tries not to cry. He does. But the tears come. Thunder rumbles, his tears thicken. They sound like the footsteps of Hissra. His bed is too small, and he is cold outside of the blankets, scrunched up with his face in his hands as he sits on top of them.  
  
Luckily, his tama is a smart woman. At the sound of thunder she had awoken immediately to check on the children, knowing that there would be tears, perhaps. But everyone is still sleeping soundly. Everyone except for little (big) Ashkaari. She tuts as she sits beside him on the bed, and wraps an arm around him and he starts, not noticing her with his eyes squeezed so tightly shut.  
  
"[Little one]," she says, with eyes so kind he can see their sweetness even in the dark. "[The storm will pass. Be brave.]"  
  
He shakes his head quickly and stutters out an explanation. "T-tama. [I'm scared. The--The /demons/]." The light of the moon shines through the windows, and the shadow of the rain looks like, in his innocent mind, the scattering of blood. He clutches her arm, shaking like a leaf in the wind.  
  
She coos and pets his head, wrapping her arms around him lightly. He snuggles into them, his grip on her back tight and strong. He would make an excellent Sten, she thinks. If he weren't so smart...  
  
"[Precious one]..." She whispers. "[There are no demons here. I will never let them harm you. And you are strong. And brave. Smart. And kind. One day you will be big enough to fight off any demons with your horns alone!]"  
  
He snorts and it dips into a giggle into her chest regardless of how he feels. She feels it vibrate through her skin, and it makes her smile wider.  
  
"[Imagine it, my little] Ashkaari... [Stabbing right through the chest of demons with your horns. Lifting your head up, and having a dead demon cling to each, before they fade to dust. You will be more powerful than any demon. And until then, I will protect you.]"  
  
He sniffles, not pulling back, still speaking against her chest. "[You promise?]"  
  
"[Of course I do. Has your tama ever lied?]"  
  
"...[No.]"  
  
"[Peace now,] Kadan. [Will you sleep when I leave you?]"  
  
He nods his head 'yes.'  
  
"[That is the worst lie you have ever told me.]" He giggles at that, too, and she hums back, rubbing his back in small circles. She talks with him until he does fall asleep, no more nightmares, just the voice of his tama, her stories, and her songs. She teaches him prayers for the next time he has nightmares. And though she promises she will be here the next time he has nightmares... It gives him strength the next time he deals with it alone.

-  
  
He repeats those prayers now. He dreams of so much more than demons, but he does not cry. His breath stutters, but he stays focused. He never wakes his partners, even as he walks away from them and out into the night. He drags his sword along with him as a totem, and trains in secret and in silence far away from anyone who could notice. But he's always back before the dawn. It wouldn't do to have his partners think he's left them. Even if, for the entirety of that time, he has.

-  
  
He's not Imekari anymore. Or Ashkaari... or even Hissra. He's Tal-Vashoth.

-  
  
There's blood in his mind, and death, and madness, and when he wakes, his lips are already moving, saying the prayers of his Tama and his people. Words that once felt like they belonged solely to him and her alone. Over and over again, he says the words. Over and over again, faster and faster, over and over again, faster and faster, breathing through his nose, panting out the words, his eyes squeezed shut to block out the demons within, instead of in the sky.  
  
The bed is too small and too big. The bed is too hot and too cold. The bed is too soft and too hard. There's the itching. There's the pounding and the dull ache of his head all at once.  
  
He's praying to a prophet who no longer speaks to him. He's clinging to a people he's no longer a part of. He's dead to them. He's dead to his Tama. He's lying, again, and always, to himself. These are not his words. These are not his prayers. They are stolen. They are meaningless. They are empty. He is alone in the darkness, and his breath finally comes back to him in a great sob, a tear running down his cheek because it's not working, it's not working and it'll never work again... But he is not alone in his bed.  
  
Dorian is up. Apparently Bull was louder than he thought. He's been watching him, all this time, wondering exactly what he's been doing. He's seen him in the mornings at this point, watched him do his prayers. "Bull," he says, shaking his arm. "Bull. What's wrong?"  
  
"I... Nothing, kadan. Go back to sleep."  
  
"Bullshit," he frowns. But his face gets softer, worried. Bull can't see it properly in the dark, but he knows the expression is there. Dorian is a kind man. "Did you... have a nightmare, perhaps?" He says it like it sounds funny on his tongue, and they hang oddly in the air. Like it's impossible, for Bull to be sitting in his own bed, crying about a nightmare. Bull wishes it was.  
  
"I... Yeah. I did."  
  
Dorian rubs his back. It feels good.  
  
"Would you... like to talk about it?"  
  
He shakes his head 'no.' Dorian looks dejected, but Bull knows he understands. That he wouldn't push him into anything he didn't want, that he wouldn't ask for anything he doesn't think Bull will want to give him. Dorian can be very bad at asking for things. But Bull loves to give things to him. So he starts to talk anyway. "It was... about demons." His voice is a lower rumble than usual. Soft and sad, and mostly a lie.  
  
"...Demons?" Dorian says, incredulous to a fault.  
  
"Demons," Bull repeats. In fairness, it's not his best lie.  
  
"Bull. We fight demons all the time. You personally went into The Fade. With me. And The Inquisitor. Remember?"  
  
"Don't remind me." He snorts.  
  
"No. I will remind you. Because you... in your own words... kicked 'demon ass.'"  
  
Bull chuckles despite himself.  
  
Dorian huffs. "You are ridiculous. All this muscle. And those giant horns. So ludicrously strong. You could probably skewer a _thousand_ demons with those horns. And yet, you say you are afraid of demons."  
  
Bull blinks, and his mouth slides into a smile. "You think so?"  
  
"Do I think you are afraid of demons, or do I think you could kill demons with your horns? Because I think I believe both. The first with some difficulty mind you..."  
  
"The second one," Bull grins.  
  
"I saw you slice six demons in half with a single blow last week. I think you can do just about anything at this point."  
  
Bull smiles, but it quickly drips into a frown. " _Anybody_... can get possessed by demons. When you're too strong... when you feel too much..."  
  
"Listen to me, The Iron Bull." He says it like he's talking to a bas child. Calling him his full name because he's been naughty. "I, Dorian Pavus, swear that I will protect you from demons, if, _somehow_ , you grow incapable of protecting yourself. Which you won't."  
  
He grins again. "Oh, you'll protect me, will you?"  
  
He nods his head fiercely. "Yes."  
  
" _Promise_?" His words are teasing.  
  
They make Dorian roll his eyes. "For the love of--"  
  
Bull cuts him off with a deepy, sloppy kiss.  
  
He used to have The Qun. But now he has The Chargers, and The Inquisition, and... this. And he has it so much more honestly than he ever could have with The Qun. And so, in yet another 'somehow'... Somehow, Bull is alright with the idea of never being called 'liar' again.

Because this moment... it's dream-worthy.

-  
  
"Are we going in for Round Four?" Dorian smiles, cupping Bull's cheek in his hands.  
  
"No." Bull rolls over him, pushing him into the mattress. He is, of course, already hard.  
  
" _Liar_."  
  
Well. Maybe some things never change. Bull thinks he's alright with that, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it. I can never get Dorian's voice down right. : / Oh, well... Leave some kudos/comments if you liked it, maybe? ; o Thanks for reading, again.


End file.
